Secondary Infertility in Inside My Head

I went to my old reproductive endocrinologist right before Sam’s first birthday. I wanted to start fertility treatment then because I knew I would have a problem with the second time around. He was unconcerned and told me to try on my own for 3-6 months. It’s funny these doctors tell you to wait and wait, and then turn around and tell you you’re too old.

So now my cycles are wonky and are every 22 days with a short luteal phase and I’m back at the office begging them to please start me on infertility treatment. My clock is ticking noisily in my ear.

I’m having my embryos genetically tested (called CCS) I have to do a frozen cycle because the results don’t come back for 10-14 days. So now I’m looking at maybe July for a frozen embryo transfer. I turn 34 in October and am well aware of the success rates of women older than 35. I have endometriosis which already decreases my chances. I want to scream and cry. I went to him in November 2015 asking to start treatment and now learn that I can’t first start until July 2016. And that’s if I have any healthy embryos to transfer. If I produce nothing then I have to wait 6-9 months to get on an egg donor list.

Currently I’m on Prednisone, coenzyme Q10, Vitamin D, baby aspirin, fish oil, folate, a probiotic, and a multivitamin. I feel like a fucking pharmacy and I haven’t even started with the shots yet. Plus my insurance only covers one cycle so if it fails, we’re fucked. We could (and very well likely) will take out a loan for a second cycle, but if that fails? Now we’re in debt for something that didn’t work. What kills me is that I’m not that old; Im 33. I am convinced that it’s punishment from God, or Fate, or the Powers That Be for my past behavior. It’s a cruel irony and definitely some form of punishment, but ultimately the one who is punished is Sam. We don’t have large extended families and I don’t want him to be alone.

It’s not that I’m not thankful for Sam. I am incredibly grateful, and I love him with everything that I am. I always wanted a big family. I had no family history of infertility, I’d gotten pregnant in the past, and I was just turning 30 when we started trying for babies. I thought I’d be on my second or third by now. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve never bought a house and built up a career first. At the time I thought I was doing what’s best for my family; having a career and a home when my children arrived. But if there’s no more babies? What’s the point to this big home with just one child? It’s like everything that I worked for and put off having children for was a waste.

I’m so stressed and frustrated and sad. I spent half my time looking up infertility stuff and then stress I’m missing out on Sam growing up because I’m distracted. And if he turns out to be my only baby then I will miss a stage of development that I will never see again. I just want to get pregnant like (almost) everyone else.